The Dead Man's Letter
by oxford-hamilton
Summary: When Kitty Daniels receives a letter and a key from her long dead brother, she enlists the help of his old army buddy John Watson.
1. Calling All Skeletons

**Chapter 1: Calling All Skeletons**

'I'm sorry who are you?'

The tiny brunette stood in the doorway of the messy living room. Sherlock Holmes was lying on the couch, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest. Clutched in one hand was a weather-beaten skull.

'Is that real?' asked the woman.

'Of course it's real. What do you want?'

'Are you John Watson?' she asked.

'No'

'Oh. This is his house though, isn't it?'

'I suppose it is'

'Are you expecting him soon?'

'I have absolutely no idea'

'That's ok I can wait,' she said sitting down in the armchair opposite him just as Mrs Hudson bustled in.

'Oh hello Sherlock, I just bought up some biscuits for the young lady, are you a friend of Dr Watsons?' she asked the woman.

'Um, sort of,' said the woman. 'He was friends with my brother. Stan told me to look him up if I ever came to London'

'Oh isn't that lovely,' said Mrs Hudson placing the tea and biscuits next to her.

'Can I have some?' Sherlock asked, finally opening his eyes.

'I'm not a housekeeper Sherlock,' Mrs Hudson replied as she bustled back out of the room. The woman smiled sweetly at him as she sipped her tea.

'Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? I knew he worked with you, I didn't realise you two lived together,' she said. 'Are you an item?'

'Who are you?' he repeated. She took a bite out of a cookie and leant forwards so their eyes were at the same level.

'Don't you already know, Mr Holmes? I thought you would've had me all figured out by now,' she said. He narrowed his eyes at her, scanning.

'Oh go on, you know you want to,' she said. He completed his look and threw himself back in the chair.

'You're Australian, grew up on the east coast. You've just arrived in London with no money, which isn't surprising since you're a writer. You used to dance, but you were too short to pursue it professionally. You don't like me, which I can only assume is because you feel threatened by a being of superior intelligence. Your brother was an old army buddy of John's, killed in action in Afghanistan. And you're here because someone is trying to kill you too.'

Sherlock sat up. 'You're right that did feel good'

'Very good,' she said approvingly. 'And right on all accounts except one'

'And what was that?'

'I dislike you because you're arrogant, not because you're clever,' she replied.

'Close enough,' he shrugged, leaning over to grab a cookie. Mrs Hudson returned carrying another tray, slapping his hand away from the plate.

'That's enough Sherlock, the poor girl is skin and bone! I brought you a sandwich dear and some more tea,' said Mrs Hudson.

'Oh thank you so much, Mrs Hudson. You're a gem,' smiled the woman.

'You're very welcome. Oh I miss the company of ladies, something we don't get a lot of round here,' said Mrs Hudson pointedly to Sherlock.

'That's quite enough, thank you Mrs Hudson,' Sherlock ordered. The landlady bustled back out of the room muttering under her breath.

'Do you piss everyone off?' the woman asked as she ate the sandwich. Sherlock snatched the plate of cookies away and nibbled one quickly.

'Apparently'

They sat in silence as they each finished their plates.

'How long have you been receiving death threats?' he asked.

'Two days,' she replied.

'Oh well that's nothing to worry about I get them at least once a week,' he said offhandedly.

'Oh of course, I'm clearly overreacting,' she said, pulling down her shirt to reveal a stab wound. 'The guy who did this must've just tripped through my bedroom window whilst cutting up some steak'

'You have a kitchen in your bedroom?' Sherlock asked, peering at the wound down her shirt.

'It's called sarcasm Sherlock,' came a new voice. She looked up to see a sandy-haired man standing in the doorway holding a cup of coffee. 'Are you alright?' He looked at her strangely, trying to place her.

'Oh my god, are you Kitty? Kitty Daniels?' John asked. Kitty nodded and jumped up, throwing her arms around the doctor.

"Kitty?" mouthed Sherlock.

'I can't believe it, you look just like Stan,' John said. 'He would go on and on about you'

'You too. Look I'm sorry I to drop in unannounced like this, I hope you don't mind,' Kitty said as he sat beside her.

'Of course not, it's no trouble,' John said smiling. 'Your brother was my best friend, he saved my life more times than I could count'

'Someone is trying to kill Kitty,' Sherlock said.

'What?'

Kitty reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope and handed it to John.

'It's from Stan, I got it three days ago,' she said as he opened it.

'Three days? But how? Stan died-'

'Eight months ago, I know,' Kitty said. 'Read it. He knew something was going to happen to him'

John scanned the three pages of the handwritten letter, dated one week before Stan's death.

'Sherlock you need to look at this'

He handed the letter to the detective.

'How did your brother die?' Sherlock asked as he read the letter.

'It was a roadside bombing, Stan and three other soldiers were killed on their way to a Bedouin village,' said John.

'Where's the key?'

Kitty held up a small silver key attached to the strip of leather around her neck.

'He said John was the only person I could trust, so I looked you up, found your blog and booked the next flight to London. Someone attacked me yesterday morning, so I figured it was an even better reason to get out of Sydney,' Kitty explained. 'The only problem is I don't know where to find what this goes to'

'You did the right thing,' John said. 'And you can stay here'

'What? No absolutely not,' said Sherlock sitting up.

'Sherlock! Someone is trying to kill her,' protested John.

'Exactly! I have enough to worry about without having her assassin coming here too,' said Sherlock.

'I've made up the guest bedroom for Miss Kitty,' said Mrs Hudson bustling in again. 'Oh hello doctor'

'Look you must be exhausted, go have a shower, get some rest and we'll figure things out in the morning,' said John. 'You'll be safe here'

'Thanks John, Sherlock, Mrs Hudson,' Kitty said. Mrs Hudson grabbed her bag and ushered the petite brunette up the stairs.

'I'm not taking the case,' Sherlock said.

'Then it's a good thing she didn't ask for your help then, isn't it?' replied John snatching the letter back.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

'What do you know about this girl?' Sherlock asked.

'Not much. She's a couple of years younger than Stan. He was away when their parents died and sent money to her when he could. He kept a picture of her on him, I think he said she was studying art or something,' said John.

'How did he know you'd still be alive?' Sherlock asked.

'It was after I hurt my leg, I was discharged the day before he was killed,' John explained.

'What was he working on?'

'I don't know, but I'll make a few calls,' said John pulling out his cell phone.

Sherlock inspected the letter, it was postmarked from London the previous week.

Who had sent it? And what was Stan Daniels trying to hide from beyond the grave?


	2. Help Me

**Chapter 2: Help Me**

Kitty fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, exhausted from the past few days.

As John was trying to contact his old commanding officer, Sherlock inspected the letter again.

It wasn't long or detailed. In fact it was only a paragraph. But the key that came with it wasn't the only thing that made Kitty a target. Without the letter there was no way to figure out what it opened. And whatever that is was apparently worth killing for.

_Dear Kitty_

_If you get this letter then it means I won't be coming back home, and I'm sorry if getting this scares you. I've left you the key to your early birthday present in London, and don't forget to have tea with the queen when you're there. Look after yourself and don't let Mary give you any grief._

_Love Stan xoxo_

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and tossed the letter on the table, lying back to think. John snapped his phone shut and walked back into the lounge.

'They won't tell me anything,' he said annoyed. He picked up the letter and glanced at it again.

'What do you think it means "don't forget to have tea with the queen?"' he asked Sherlock. 'Do you think whatever it is could be at Buckingham Palace?'

'Too obvious,' Sherlock quipped.

'Alright, Windsor?' Balmoral? Sandringham?'

'No it's something in London. But where? There are thousands of references to the queen, it could be anything from a pub to a bookstore,' Sherlock mused. 'And then which queen?'

'I thought you weren't taking the case?' John asked.

'I'm not, I'm merely assisting an amateur,' Sherlock shrugged.

'I guess she knows who Mary is,' John mused.

'Ask her then,' Sherlock said.

'No let her sleep, she needs it,' John replied. He glanced at his watch and swore. 'Shit I'm late. Look I'm off to Sarah's, call me when she wakes up'

John raced out the door leaving Sherlock alone on the couch, staring intently at the letter. Suddenly something snapped and he jumped up, grabbed his coat and raced out the door.

Two hours later John returned to find him sitting on his chair reading a book. A small rusty box sat on the coffee table.

'What's that?' John asked.

'Whatever the letter is referring to,' Sherlock mumbled, not looking up.

'You found it already?' John asked, amazed. 'I've only been gone a few hours'

'It was easy,' Sherlock shrugged. 'Tea with the queen? Don't let Mary give you any grief? Refers to Queen Mary I, otherwise known as "Bloody Mary". This was hidden in her tomb'

John looked gobsmacked. 'Did you steal this from Westminster Abbey?'

'Of course'

'Are you insane?'

'It wasn't hard,' Sherlock replied, sounding bored.

'Well what is it?' John asked, giving up.

'I have no idea'

John gave him a strange look.

'What?' protested Sherlock. 'You told me not to wake the girl'

John rolled his eyes and collapsed in the seat opposite him.

'It's too easy,' Sherlock said.

'What do you mean? It's not easy to steal something out of Westminster!' John said.

'True for a layman, but for a trained soldier it's a piece of cake,' Sherlock said. 'That's why he told her to come to you- the only person she could trust to help her figure it out'

'Whoever sent this letter kept it for eight months and couldn't solve it, so they finally sent it to Kitty knowing she would,' he continued. 'The intrigue alone would've put her on a plane. For an idiot they had the right idea'

'So why try to kill her then?' John asked.

'The killer and sender are different people,' Sherlock said. 'Different, but somehow connected'

He thought for a second.

'When Stan died were there any survivors?' he asked finally.

'Three people in the truck behind them,' John said. 'Um there was another Australian, Lisa Matthews; the driver Eric Constantine and Joe Ford who was navigating.'

'What happened to them?'

'I'm not really sure to be honest,' John said. 'I know Lisa went back home, she called me when she was discharged. I think Eric is still on active duty and I think Joe was killed in action'

'Well that's a start anyway,' Sherlock said. 'Get back in contact with Lisa, I want to know where she was the night Kitty was stabbed'

John nodded and went upstairs to his room to make the call.

Sherlock was looking at the box curiously when John ran back into the room.

'Kitty's gone!'

The box slammed to the floor as Sherlock raced up the stairs after John. The door to the guest bedroom was wide open and the bed was a mess of sheets as Kitty had clearly been dragged kicking and screaming from her rest. Furniture was strewn around the floor and the window was open. Sherlock leant out and stared into the street. There's no way they could've gotten her out that way, it was too high up.

'Sherlock, look,' John said. He turned to see the doctor pointing at the mirror. A piece of paper was stabbed into the glass with a thin dagger.

'Watson, bring it to the docks. 7pm or she dies,' Sherlock read.

'Fuck'

'Go check on Mrs Hudson,' Sherlock ordered. John raced out of the room as Sherlock peered around the room. He inspected the dagger, pulling it gently from the mirror and stepping back quickly as the glass slid from the frame and shattered on the floor.

The kidnappers had come in the front door and left the same way. Kitty must've ran for the window when they'd burst through the door. There was blood and hair on the edge of the doorway, she had hit her head. But that's where the trail ended, no further signs of a struggle all the way to the front door.

'Is she alright?' Sherlock called to John.

'They knocked her out, but she's alright. Just has a concussion,' said John. 'She's resting'

'Come on its nearly 7,' said Sherlock.

They arrived at the docks with only minutes to spare. There was no one around. John touched the gun hidden in the back of his waistband under his jacket. Gripping the box in one hand he continued on alone through the empty buildings.

'Alright, here I am,' said John, walking out into the open space in the middle of the buildings. He held his arms out, the tin in his left hand. Sherlock crouched by some empty crates, watching and waiting.

'Do you have what we want?' boomed a voice. He turned to see a tall man emerge from the building, his gun pointed at John.

'Where's the girl?' John demanded.

'She's safe,' the man said. 'Toss over the box'

'Not til I see Kitty,' John said stubbornly.

'I don't think you understand, Doctor Watson,' said the man. 'This isn't a negotiation. Give me the fucking box, or the girl will get sent back in one'

John threw the tin at the man, who motioned to another thug to go and get it. He pulled the key out of his pocket, still attached to the silver chain. As he pulled the tin open, the sounds of a scuffle behind them distracted him and John turned to see a dejected Sherlock being pushed towards him at gunpoint by another thug.

'Well, well. If it isn't the famous Sherlock Holmes. I should've known your pet wouldn't leave the house without his owner,' the thug said with a smirk. 'You're quite the double act now I'm told'

He looked in the tin, then back up.

'Where's the rest?'

'The rest of what?' John asked, confused.

The man slammed the tin shut and glared at John. 'This is only half of it. It won't work without the rest'

John looked at Sherlock. 'What's he talking about? What is it?'

Sherlock shrugged.

'That's all there is,' John said, his stomach sinking. 'That's all the letter pointed to'

'Kill the girl,' the man ordered his thug.

'No! We'll find it!' John cried. 'There must be something else in the letter, we'll find the other piece!'

The man held up his hand the thug stopped.

'You've got 24 hours, doctor,' said the thug. 'I suggest you run'

* * *

><p>Hi all. I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Just letting you know that I'm on twitter now: oxfordhamilton - follow me if you're bored.<p> 


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